Working Out ©

Before I wade into today’s post I would like to take a moment and say that, I remember those who perished on Sept 11 and their families along with those who are still perishing due to events sparked by those who don’t love peace or value life.

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Hey, I’m just working out.

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I have a wedding to go to in two weeks and I want to be in shape.
I remember when I first started working out way back in junior high when I played hockey.
Before that in elementary sports we played intramural sports for fun and never practiced.
Just show up for the game and you were on the team.
Bodies were more important than skills.

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But in junior high, sports got serious.
For the next six years I ate slept, crapped and breathed hockey pucks and basketballs.
Then during the summer breaks I hammered baseballs out of ballparks.
I was built for baseball but back then there weren’t leagues for it.
My brother was built for hockey lean and mean.

I know I don’t take the time to say some of the nice things about him because most of the time he’s selfish little bossy fucker but he has his good points to.
He was born with a sculpted body and the good looks associated with the term “Adonis”. Along with it comes arrogance and a lust to batter people to the ground.
He skated past and empty net with the puck to cream a defense man because the guy had his head down looking at the puck and not my brother.

Just plain ruthless when it came to anything competitive, oh and he cheats.
Yeah, he says it’s not cheating but part of the game.
It’s only cheating if you get caught.

He loves money because he lives for gadgets.
The guy has more toys than anyone I know.
He has shit I never heard of.
Like when I took his van to pick up my niece from the day care.
I got the kid in the van and we are going down the street and a phone starts ringing.
I look around for it but I can’t see anything.

The phone continues to ring and my ears follow the sound up to the rear view mirror and I see a little button on it so I push it.
My brother starts talking through the car speakers and typing it across the rear view mirror at the same time.
WTF!!!!!

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He’s not all asshole and does have a kind heart but you have to be at your wits end before he helps you.
You know, you’re hanging off a cliff by a rope and the strands are snapping off one at a time and your death is imminent.
He’d sit there and wait.
He’s going to help you but not until there is one last strand left that way he’s the hero.
My brother loves being the hero and the attention that comes with it and we love it when he is the hero, my parents and I.
It’s about the only way we could manipulate him.

It took me years to figure it out and a day to teach my parents.
Say you need help for something or someone needs help and my brother is the only one that could help.
If you ask him, he will either say No or he will say yes and never do it.

BUT

If you ask him in public and throw in a testimonial of a past deed you own him.
My mother though has pushed it a bit to far I think.
So far she has milked him out of a 32 in plasma, a side-by-side fridge, new fans and light fixture throughout the house and I now here there may be a 42 inch plasma for the kitchen coming but he threatens to kill then if one of his socks goes missing.

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Sports were good for him to release his frustrations I guess and he played up until a few years ago but he never had to work out.
Maybe all the built in anger was enough.

I on the other hand had to work my fucken ass off.
It felt all I did was run all over the place like Forrest Gump.
I hated the people that didn’t have to work out as much as I did to be as fit but it also drove me to work harder.

Over the years since high school I let the body fall to pieces and only recently started to find some remnant inside me of part of that body but I have to go slow so that I don’t hurt myself.
I’m already a pro at that.

The idea of working out is to loose some weight to make it easier to get to the store to buy more Twinkies.
So for the last week I have been lifting weights, not large amounts.
I don’t want to bulk up just loose a little weight and get a little sculpted so to do that I use light weights and do many reps and with each set of reps I drop the weight down a little bit.

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To do this though you need a fare number of small dumbbells and that could get a little expensive on the pocket book.
Have you seen some of the gym equipment they have now?
They have contraptions that do a million different exercises and when you’re done it folds up into a suitcase size box that you slide under the bed next to the thigh master.
I’d be scared to use one in case something happened and folded itself into that box while I was on it.

Even the dumbbells are space age today.
All chromed up like the bumper of a 57 Chevy.
Most people who own those don’t really need to work out with them.
They get their workout lifting the fuckers to polish them so they look good for when the friends stop by.

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No, I can’t afford fancy equipment like that and in fact I’d be hard pressed to find the money for it and would have to go without from someplace else do to that so I had to use what I had available to me.
You know what they say, necessity is the mother of invention.
So after sitting down on the couch polishing off an Oh Henry an a Coke I figured out how to gets some curls in and at the same time have the weight change automatically with each repetition.

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It was sitting here in front of me the whole time and I didn’t even see it until I burped.
The perfect dumbbell.

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Damn, the bottle’s empty.
Catch you guys later; I need another quart to do some more curls.

Have a nice day

At least walking to the fridge is exercise too.

Walker